Sta.sh
Harry hated cleaning. That was very apparent to him. Although as much as he despised it, this way he could explore his godfather's childhood home. At this particular moment he had stumbled upon a new room. It was empty except for a few chairs covered in white sheets and the wallpaper was the color of puke.
At that moment a sliver of light came through the dingy window, reflecting off something on the floor. Harry noticed some broken glass that had appeared to come from a picture frame he hadn't noticed before. He carefully picked it up, avoiding the glass. After carefully examining the picture he realized it was the same picture of the Order of Phoenix he already had. At that moment he realized there was one difference. There was a woman with long dark hair standing next to Sirius standing on her toes to be seen. Harry noticed the woman looked like his father.
"Find something interesting?" Sirius' voice came from the doorway.
"Yeah actually. Who's this standing next to you?" Harry handed the picture to his godfather,
"That's your aunt Caden," Sirius quickly handed the picture back to him, looking uncomfortable.
"Aunt? I have an aunt? No one ever told me," Harry said.
"She was killed, not long after this picture was taken," Sirius said, clearing his throat
"By who?" Harry asked, not noticing Sirius.
"My brother," he sighed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know," Harry said, feeling bad for bringing it up.
"Its alright. It's better you know….we were to be married. Regulus had always hated her because of the veela blood that ran through her veins. He thought bringing her into the family would soil it further than it had already been soiled. He had been hiring people to kill her for years, since we were in school even, and he almost succeeded quite a few times. It wasn't until he went after her himself that he actually did," Sirius looked down and waited for more questions.
"Did you love her?" Harry asked.
"Very much," Sirius replied.
"Then maybe you'll see her again someday."
As Harry left the room, Sirius was left in the room, staring into the smiling face captured in the picture. A tear struck the photo as he set it on a chair. Somewhere, somehow, a different tear hit the same photo. At that moment two separate souls longed to be other than where they were. And they began to weep.
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